Travel Blogs (264)

to our hostel. After the first few hundred yards, the smells of jet diesel morph somehow into more natural nose delights. The many exotic (for a Mainer) fragrances of various families of flowering plants, and grasses, are a rush-as when I visit family on Oahu. No matter how many times we come this way, nonending surprises, and old pals alike. And it's great to watch the many pollinators at work, insects and birds, even me, perhaps, when touching stamen to pistils, trying to see if that bee is Italian or Caucasian. Or a bumblebee. All those strange frogs, and the rabbits. Before all this excitement, enjoyed the chat with the lovely Azorean Lady vet, who examined papers and the health of a new friend's 6 month old English Pointer "Dodger", who seemed to survive the 4 hour kennel bound trip in heated/pressurized storage, frisky temperment fully intact. School kids with banners, proclaiming Human rights, marching down tight cobbled streets. VIVA, VIVA! Must have missed this in the news. Didn't miss the equities markets world wide. OUCH!

After the things happening, I saw it. The visions came to me, of endless joy and happy days. Even my heart feels the innefable urge to pour in tears where my eyes catch a glimpse of, that pass under the train brige.. ¿Remember those times, M? ¿Remember those memories?

Iceland. Sweden. Green. Memories. Summer. Nature. Hopes. Loves. Stop. Please stop...

And of course, I always have to do these kind of things in order to set my brain free, helping it to release the exact and neccessary amounts of endorphines and other chemicals, forcing these hopes & memories to enter my bloodstream; to remind me of what I am made of, to make me want the things I once had, but never got.

At the same time Patagonia feeds this neccessity to have romance pour into my every minute. I am Argentinian. I am at home. I never need to leave home, yet the times I have lived pull my legs and my body into a state that I cannot deny: I am in love. In love with it all. In love with the hope to find it (her?) again...

Have you ever had that feelin that love passes you by in every corner in every street? I feel she is here, and there. The images inside my brain when I'm overdosed in life tell me the story of something about to happen. Fireplaces and love making are the essence to these dreams.


¿Will I ever get to make them true?

@ bientôt at Kona coffee international Market Waikiki.

Our first real snow storm, here near O Canada, eh? And as usual, a gift from our northern neighbor friends. But at least it's not a n'oreaster, huricane like, and with half a meter of the hard to clear heavy white stuff. But while I used to love the season, including all sorts of outdoor activities, over the last decade, corresponding with the troubling shrinkage, I now get away, ie, OOOOOT of this place, for warmth, climate, people, food, vinho verde, and sunlight. Muito obrigado, Portuga!

Where is she???

Did she block me? Did she just go? What happened?

I remember the images I got this morning.. the old church, the road, her hair. Her golden hair and the white dress. It reminds me of other visions of Denmark and the beat of my heart with her.
I cannot fall asleep without hoping to know of her, of it all...
And today was a day of driving, of moving, of travelling. The places, my childhood. Will you be here? Should I still make my way through ice paths and lost Norths in order to find you? Or will all be waiting right here for me, in the hidden hopes of a heart that has been treading unknown roads?

Today I've been chased by the plants of Bariloche. The trees and bushes, the green pine trees and the snow. It has all been walking with me, talking to me; doing things to me.

I just hope to find you. If ever. I just hope to find all these things I've been needing to say, to take to you. Because if you run in my veins the way you do, you definitely have to be real.

It was dark, today.. and I missed you.

I wish MySpace was back. Whereas I listen to that song, I cannot help to think every-single-f*cking-time about that Ukrainian cutie that travelled to China. What was her name? I don't know. Any other info about her? None.

The ever-so-present reminder that love is not for me. Not for a guy like me. I escape love and love escapes me.
Oh how much I tried to make connection to her, but it just wasn't enough, and then, the adventures resulting from that heartbreak were as immense as the love I had for her. "Will those feet in modern times walk on soles made in China?"

And then the bright prosaic malls, the memories of Sweden, the bright prosaic malls in Sweden. My hopes, my wishes, my unfulfilled fantasies...
The need for answers and not just walks in the park. The 'ursekta mig' question right at the entry of Nacka Forum. The recurring hope for a love that might or might not be.
I-can-not-take-it-anymore.


As I put my ring back on, I try to diluscidate what was it that I've done wrong in my life to end up like this. ¿Can I fix it? ¿Will I be fine?

And yes, the offer is there for me to take.. but why would I cause more harm to myself without any reason?
Is it real? The trembling on the sofa, is that Icelandic memory just pulling my legs in a way that only love can do?
Just the memories, those are the only ones I ask to come back. Because the cold and the booze in my veins only call for those memories that will never leave my mind. Even if I forget the smells and the sounds, the cold wind will be there to remind me of that ship that has set sail and left me dry, hoping for a return inside my heart that seems to never happen.
Tonight, this night, is just another cry for reason.


I wish it never dies.

After doing what I'm not supposed to do, I finally saw you again... In my dreams. In my head.
You gave me three children. Three sons. You, but you were not her, only you. 2009. Remember your name? B?

My opiate-like state only caused me to close my eyes (if ever, half open), and just drift into the most fantastic visions of my past, of the memories.
Whereas I write this, tears start to trample up my lacrimals, stopped only by the courage of my stupid brain that believes this will not happen.. not happen.

I need to take my clonazepam.

I wonder if taking it with matecocido will cause some deadly reaction.. hm..

Only the visions, the love, the you. I miss you, and I am sorry if I f*cked it up. It wasn't my intention. I was going through rough times... Please, forgive me.

The images that haunted me, mixed today with yesterday and tomorrow. "Kiss me out of the bearded barley, lightly , beside the green, green grass". Oh Lord, I really cannot take the pain.

I can already feel my blood pressure going down down down, because of all the pain I have to endure. Physical pain? Emotional pain? Mix of pills?
Just tell her not to do it anymore.

Love. Runs through my veins and in the name of no one. Is it all inside my head?